You gotta get out, go far away
by Casketta
Summary: Sometimes your only option is to leave, but make sure you don't make a mess. TW: Attempted Suicide


Sometimes your only option is to leave, but make sure you don't make a mess.

Eric understands that he's a messy person in general, he's disrespectful and generally an irritable individual. He's quiet, he doesn't speak unless spoken to and when he does he replies as curtly as possible. It's the life of a dog, used when you're needed and kicked when you try to do anything on your own.

He means nothing to the organization, and he knows it. They use him to not dirty their hands because he's still under eighteen and juvenile penalties are lesser than being tried as an adult. The blonde just seems to roll over, trying not to lay on the spotted bruises that mark his left side. Even sleeping on his back hurts, so he sits up, a groan escapes his lips, along with a hiss of pain.

He throws on that sweater and leaves the small room he lives in, if you could call it that. Usually the higher members slept in the nearby hotel, the blonde was stuck within the warehouse itself along with some upper clansmen.

Thoughts plague his head as he walks by fellow "friends", if you can even call them that. They hurl as many insults as they can, ranging from, "Foreign dog!" to "Go back to your own country- you're a disgrace!" and Eric grits his teeth because he was _born_ here to a Japanese father and an English mother.

The blonde doesn't know what day it is anymore, or what the weather's like. It's come to the point where he doesn't care. Quietly, he heads into one of the more secluded areas because his plan can finally come true. He can actually run from these people, he can finally leave. Finally be at peace and finally meet his mother in heaven.

He's set everything up- he's going to hang himself because he doesn't want to make a mess, it's ironic because he literally has the worst table manners ever- he's fed like a dog so he eats like one. This time, he'll spare those bastards the pain of trying to clean.

There's a noose in the middle of the same room, right underneath sits a chair and he gulps because this is it- this is finally it. He can be free from all this hate, all this bullshit. He's been stripped raw, childhood gone as he's being controlled, like a puppet, from above his own head. He takes a breath because Eric's going to do this.

Slowly, he stands up on the chair, nonchalantly fitting the rope around his thin, bruised neck. It's littered with bite marks, light scars and the bruises of just living in such an abusive home. He's the dog they take their anger out.

Something scurries across the room and that makes Eric jump, causing him to tip off the chair, making the wooden piece of furniture fall over and his hanging has started. He's struggling against it- but his mind is screaming at him to stop. YOU WANTED THIS! Air is leaving as he tries to gasp, his slim hands fitting under the tattered ropes but suddenly he hears footsteps and then Eric's face pales even more than it already has.

The door is open and suddenly Eric stops trying to get out of this position because he's just been caught in his suicide as his eyes close as he can feel those pitying stares on him. "Oh, lookie here boys- our dog's tryna leave!" A few men walk as quickly as they can, making sure not to prolong the death of their scapegoat, of their little pet.

With a large pocket knife, the rope in cut within a matter of seconds and Eric drops to the floor unceremoniously, rope still tied around his pale neck. His assailants laugh as one seems to grab him by that cut rope, hoping him up onto his bruised knees, choking and gasping for air. The main groupie, a skinny but strong man just seems to walk forwards, grabbing Eric by that blonde hair and ripping of it out, scattering it on the dirty floor. Eric refuses, _refuses_ to scream for these bastards, but his own voice seems to fail and cracks when that rope chafes against his neck and he's punch straight in the stomach.

—-

Three days later, Eric's recovered, for the most part, and can finally walk. The new bruises, cuts, scrapes are starting to heal but the rest of him does not. Emotionally, he's exhausted, physically, he's so tattered and psychologically he is broken. The main boss notices the destroyed dog, and just decides to give him a new mission.

"Surt." He barks, causing the blonde to weakly turn to him. He's so hungry- he hasn't eaten at all since he tried to kill himself. Those dark bruises still littered his neck with the new bite marks that he's been marked with. The self-inflicted cuts on his arms still exist as he slowly makes his way over to the man he serves. One member kicks him right in the ass, causing the blonde to stumble forwards and fall onto his hands and knees- pain shooting right his backside.

The boss just laughs.

"You have a new job- this one's important." He smirks as he watches the other slowly look up at him, that beautifully bruised face and those broken spirited blue eyes. Truly beautiful. "You're to kill the Red King- Mikoto Suoh." The blonde is taken aback, but he says nothing. His face slowly turns into a grimace and the Boss knows he needs incentive.

"If you succeed you'll be fed twice as much as you usually are." There's a pause as something behind those broken eyes flash- something truly worth motivating the teen. "If you fail, however, you're punishment will be severe." It's a vague answer, and Eric just starts to stand himself up.

"You'll be killed, my boy." The blonde stops as he tries to push himself up, a shocked face hidden from that boss. "You're a lovely errand boy, you truly are- but you're growing pathetic and boring. If you kill that Red King, we can finally accept you as one of us."

… Acceptance.

Part of Eric would like to believe that it's utter bullshit- it's _wrong_, they're liars and that's what they do, lie and manipulate. There's that small part, small part that has him thinking they're telling the truth, but it's truly a death sentence. To kill the King is to court death itself.

And by God, does Eric court death.

"… Alright." His own throat cracks, his trachea feels like it's closed up and he's accepted his own fate, his fate to die. The boss hands him a pocket knife- apparently that's all it takes to kill Suoh Mikoto. Gingerly, the blonde takes it as he just turns and limps his way out of that warehouse, to court his death.

He hardly even makes it twelve blocks before he collapses, his body is tired and exhausted at this point, he's practically dead anyway. It's raining as hard as it ever could, and suddenly the blonde trips, causing him to fall into bags of garbage that just lay within the start of an alleyway. Hopeless blue eyes look up at that gloomy sky.

He courts death one more time.

—-

There's murmuring, he's against something warm- he slightly hears the sound of talking, three different voices around him. He doesn't understand- perhaps some kids found him and they were going to put him out of the misery he feels. He can die by someone's clean hand instead of that bastard's hand, the bastard that killed his own mother just to get to her son.

When he jolts awake, he finds that he's both shocked and disappointed once again because he's not dead.


End file.
